


your name, forever the name on my lips

by weasleysking



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Bisexual Bucky Barnes, Bisexual Steve Rogers, Boys Kissing, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Crying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Gay, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, I Made Myself Cry, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Idiots in Love, Kid Bucky Barnes, Kid Steve Rogers, Kissing, Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Not Canon Compliant, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Sad with a Happy Ending, Steve Rogers Feels, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Stucky - Freeform, Stucky Is Endgame, Whump, if this flops ima cry, steve centered fic but about stucky essentially, stevebucky - Freeform, theres so much crying dont say i didnt warn u
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-16
Updated: 2019-10-16
Packaged: 2020-12-17 11:09:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21053411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weasleysking/pseuds/weasleysking
Summary: the life of steve rogers and his love for bucky barnes; as told in snippets from the most significant moments in their lives.





	your name, forever the name on my lips

**Author's Note:**

> this fic has been the only thing that has inspired me this last week or so- i've been utterly miserable but this has given me actual motivation; i'm so proud of how this turned out. if you enjoy it, please leave kudos or a comment- i could never explain how much it would mean to me :,) thank you so, so much for reading. 
> 
> PS some shits sad lmao  
and i promise no matter what happens stucky are endgame, don't make assumptions

_ **things we said when we first met** _

“Give us that money, Rogers.”

“No.”

“Come on,” the bigger boy growled. Steve was scared, but he tried not to let it show. He lifted his shaking, small, seven year old fists in front of his face.

“I’ll fight you,” he said, his voice higher than the others. The older boys laughed.

“You wouln’ know a fight if it kicked you in the ass, fag.”

Steve didn’t know the word, but he didn’t like it. He raised his fists higher.

“My ma gave me that money,” Steve said, his little fist closing over the crumpled bills. “I needa go get some bread. So get outta the way.”

“Yeah? Well, we don’ all have dotin’ mamas to give us money.”

“Don’ try fight us,” another boy said, closing in on Steve. “You’re bein’ stupid.”

Steve let out a shaky breath and threw a hand at the boy’s face. He missed completely, and they all laughed at him. His face went red, but he wouldn’t show them he was scared. He moved again, but he stumbled, and one of the bigger boys threw their first punch. Next he knew, Steve was on the ground, and his eye really, really hurt. They hit him again. Another one pulled the money out of his hand, but he stood up, his legs trembling. He wouldn’t let them get away with that. He wouldn’t let his Ma down.

“You’re gettin up? Really?” They rolled their eyes at him.

“I c-could do this all day,” his voice shook, but he puffed out his chest and tried his best to look tall.

“No you couldn’, stupid,” one of the kids said. “But we can.” They closed in on him again, and Steve shut his eyes tight, bracing himself for another hit, but it never came.

“So could I,” another voice said, one he recognised vaguely, but not well. He opened his eyes and saw another boy, one from his class at school. The teachers called him James, or if they were yelling, they called him Barnes, but he’d heard the other kids call him Bucky. Steve blinked as Bucky hit one of the other boys. He was strong. And fast. Steve shuddered a little. He wished he could do that.

“Get outta here,” Bucky growled. “Don’ let me catch you round my parta town again.” The boys ran off, leaving Bucky wrestle the crumpled bills out of the last ones hand, shoo him away, and offer it back to Steve. He then held out his hand for Steve to take and help him up. Steve was tempted to take it, but he stood up shakily himself anyway, brushing off his pants.

“Thanks,” Steve said, his voice trembling a little. He straightened up and puffed out his chest a bit for good measure. “I coulda kept going though.”

Bucky laughed, but not unkindly. Steve kind of liked the sound.

“Nah, you couldn’t have,” Bucky said, “but it’s okay.”

Steve bit his lip, then couldn’t help but smile a little. “My names Steve.”

Bucky grinned. “I’m Bucky. I know your name, but I’ve only heard adults call you that. You get picked on a lot, huh?” The two started walking out of the alley and back towards the main street.

“Nah,” Steve said, untruthfully. Bucky snorted.

“Right,” he said. “Well, it was nice meetin’ you Steve. Guess I’ll see you at school.”

“I guess,” Steve said. “Wait,” he said, and he stopped again, turning to the taller boy. “Why’d you help me? No one ever does, really.”

Bucky shrugged. “There’s nothin I hate more than a bully,” he said earnestly. “And I’ve heard the people who aren’t asses say nice things about you. Thought if anyone deserved to be helped, it was you.”

“Oh,” was all Steve could say, a blush creeping up his thin neck. “Well, thanks.”

“No problem,” Bucky replied. “See ya round, Steve.”

“Bye, Bucky.”

Steve watched as Bucky wandered off, whistling tunefully as he walked down the main street.

Steve didn’t like being saved, but if it was by Bucky, well. Maybe he could deal with that.

** _things we said when we were kids_ **

Even at thirteen years old, at least six years after Bucky had saved Steve the first of many times and their friendship had ensued, Steve still felt some tiny jump of shock everytime he realised he was never alone- that if he was in trouble, Bucky would come for him. 

Bucky was his only friend, but he didn’t mind. 

** **

They spent everyday together. At school, they sat on a bench, tucked away behind the back of the school where people didn’t often come. Bucky sometimes kicked around a ball, ran around in circles to get rid of his constant energy or graffitied (“That’s vandalism!” Steve protested once, and Bucky grinned up at him from the ground where he sat writing, “Nah, it’s art!”) bad words on the wall nearby. Steve always sat on the bench, sometimes drawing, sometimes working on an assignment to get started early (“Nerd!” Bucky laughed. “No, I’m Organised!” Steve would argue. “Nerd!”) but more often than not, just talking to Bucky. 

** **

They didn’t live too far away from each other, either. Five minutes walk if you were Steve, and one minutes sprint if you were Bucky. Fifteen minutes walk together from school to Steve’s- and Bucky was sure to walk Steve home everyday. Not because he needed looking after, Bucky would reassure Steve everytime he kept an extra close eye on his after some sort of incident, whether that was someone being an ass, or Steve recovering from one of the illnesses he seemed so susceptible to. Bucky could never admit it  _ was  _ to look after him, could never admit it because not only would Steve get pissed, (“I don’t  _ need  _ looking after!) Bucky’s “I don’t care” facade would be absolutely, positively ruined. 

** **

(Even years later, Steve would reminisce, knowing  _ exactly  _ what Bucky was doing.) 

On this particular day, Steve was sick, (“Again? Seriously?”) and lying in bed aimlessly, sighing loudly every few minutes without really realising he was doing it. Because the ceiling was so,  _ so  _ boring after you’d been staring at it for hours on end between coughing fits. 

“Sarah!” 

Steve perked up. That was Bucky’s voice, calling his Ma’s name out, in this funny way he always did when he came into Steve’s place. No other kid would dare call someone’s Ma by her first name, not if you were respectful. But Bucky wasn’t any other kid. 

(And Steve’s Ma  _ loved  _ Bucky.) 

“Oh, I’m so glad you stopped by dear,” he heard his Ma say. “Steve’s doin’ my head in! He needs a distraction.” 

“Captain distraction, on his way and here to rescue,” Bucky replied charmingly. Steve rolled his eyes as he heard Bucky make his way down the hall. 

“Why hello there, invalid,” Bucky winked, leaning against the doorframe to Steve’s room. Steve shook his head, watching his friend. Not for the first time, he felt his eyes travel up and down Bucky’s body in a way he couldn’t justify to himself. God, he was so effortlessly charming, so carefree. So handsome. 

“Hey,” Steve said, smiling. “What’re you doin’ here?” 

“Just visitn’ a friend,” Bucky grinned, moving and sitting on the edge of Steve’s bed. “What’s new?” 

“Not a lot,” Steve said, wishing he had a funnier answer. Bucky rolled his eyes. 

“Listen, I bought this book we were assigned in English home for ya. Figured you wouldn’t wanna miss out.” 

“Thanks!” Steve said, pleased Bucky had been thinking of him, even when he wasn’t there. “What book is it?” 

“Um,” Bucky yanked the book out of his bag. “A Farewell to Arms?” 

“Ernest Hemingway!” Steve said excitedly, sitting up against his pillows, then dissolving into another coughing fit. “Great!” He choked out. 

“Loser,” Bucky snorted, thumping him on the back, but then opening the book anyway. “Want me to start reading it to you?” 

“Yeah, can you?” 

“Sure thing.” 

Steve let Bucky’s voice lull him in dozieness, but he never slept. He loved listening to Bucky read, with his just broken voice, though he stumbled over words a lot more than Steve would have, it was soothing, and Steve enjoyed it. At some point, despite his deep interest in the book, Steve found himself losing concentration on the words Bucky was saying, and instead watching his friend. Bucky was sitting cross legged on the end of Steve’s old single bed, a little hunched over with his chin resting on his palm and the book in one hand. His hair was getting longer, falling into his eyes a little, and Steve had the sudden urge to sit up and brush the hair out of his way. He shuddered a second later, once again unable to justify his thoughts to himself. Instead, he spoke. 

“Heya, Buck?” 

Bucky looked up from the book. Concern flashed across Bucky’s face faster than lightning, then he was back to looking off hand, though everything he did around Steve signified he cared more than anything in the world. 

“Yeah, what’s up? You wan’ me to stop?” 

“No,” Steve said. “I just had a question.” 

“Yeah? If it’s about the book, I couldn’t tell you for the life of me.” 

Steve laughed nervously. “No. It’s not about the book. I was just wondering… do you think that we’ll always be friends?” 

Bucky frowned. “You’re not dying are you?” He said, half kidding, but his forehead was creased with growing concern at Steve’s sudden existential question. 

Steve laughed for real this time. “Nah, I’m not, promise. I dunno, I just got thinking that I dunno what my life would be like without you.” 

Bucky’s conversations didn’t often move past surface level, but he sighed, and he put the book aside for a second. 

“What? Are you worried I’m gonna leave you or somethin’?” 

Steve shrugged. “Sometimes I wonder why you chose me over everyone else.” 

Bucky was quiet for a second. Neither of them spoke, then Bucky patted Steve’s leg over the blanket. 

“I’d take you over a bunch of bullies everyday. And if you ever think any different or less of yourself, you’re bein’ stupid. If I hadn’t wanted you, I wouldn’t be here, would I?” 

Steve nodded, but he didn’t have anything to say. He just smiled at his friend, thanking him silently, and Bucky grinned back, picking up the book and continuing to read. 

** _things you said that i’ll never forget_ **

Steve stood by the door, feeling around in his pocket for his keys. He bore dark shadows under his eyes, his hair was a little messier than usual, and he was just so, so tired. 

“I know what you’re gonna say Buck,” Steve said, his voice a little harder than he intended it to be. Because he did know what Bucky was going to say. He’d say what he always said, in some form or another, that he would be there for Steve. 

“We could put the couch cushions on the floor, like when we were kids,” Bucky supplied. “It’ll be fine, all you gotta do is shine my shoes, maybe take out the trash,” he joked, and rolled his eyes a little as Steve continued hunting for his keys. Bucky bent down to grab the key from under a brick by the door he knew was always there, and handed it to Steve. “C’mon.” 

Steve nodded, his eyebrows creased and his face sombre. 

“Thank you Buck-” he said earnestly. 

To be honest, he wanted nothing more than to take Bucky up on the offer. 

“-But I can get by on my own.” 

“The thing is,” Bucky shot back, shaking his head, his eyes just as tired as Steve’s. “You don’t have to.” 

He leaned forward and placed his hand comfortingly on Steve’s shoulder, squeezing it tight. 

“I’m with you till the end of the line pal,” he said seriously. 

For the first time in weeks, Steve let himself smile a little. Tears burned behind his eyes, but he ignored them, and Bucky could tell from the way Steve looked at him that his answer was ‘okay.’

** _things we said when you left _ **

For the last four hours, Steve had felt like he was being punched in the gut over and over. His mind felt like it had left his body and the only thing it would repeat to him were the things he knew. 

Bucky had gotten his letter. He was leaving him. 

Steve wasn’t going. He wasn’t allowed to fight. 

For the first time since he was seven years old, he would be alone. 

( _ He was in love with Bucky, but he couldn’t really admit that to himself, could he?)  _

The two nineteen year olds stood outside the Stark expo, and Steve’s mind was moving so fast, screaming. This was it, he knew. They were saying goodbye. 

Bucky backed away from where Steve stood, shaking his head and smirking. 

“Just don’t do anything stupid till I get back,” Bucky said. 

Despite how hurt Steve felt, he couldn’t help but smile fondly.

“How can I?” He replied. “You’re takin’ all the stupid with you.” 

Bucky paused, locked eyes with Steve, and something was exchanged between them. Bucky shook his head at Steve and moved towards him again quickly, grabbing him in a tight hug. 

“You’re a punk,” he said softly, but Steve hadn’t known Bucky better than anyone for years to know that meant anything but an insult. 

“Jerk,” he replied, smiling at how proud his thirteen year old self would have been at finally being able to insult Bucky back. 

They clung to each other for only a moment longer, then pulled apart. 

“Be careful,” Steve said seriously. As Bucky walked away, Steve called out solemnly.

“Don’t win the war till I get there.” 

Bucky turned around one last time and saluted, the last time Steve would see that smirk for a year. 

He exhaled a shaky breath and watched Bucky walk away with his arms around two girls with about a thousand pangs of regret, but nothing he could do about it. He watched Bucky until he was out of sight, having disappeared into the crowd, now nothing more than another person. 

Steve shoved his hands in his pockets and choked down a sob, hurrying away from the crowds and back home. 

** _things i said when i lost you (part one)_ **

Steve was doing what he spent all his spare moments doing- drawing and thinking. He was currently working on a sketch of a monkey on a unicycle, a circus animal, a  _ show,  _ in his very outfit. He’d started drawing it before he’d even realised what it was. The rain was pattering on the roof above him, and he paused, listening to it, when the wind blew his pages back to a drawing he’d done of Bucky a few months ago, a day when he’d been particularly lonely. He sighed. 

Steve really loved Peggy. He really,  _ really  _ loved Peggy. (His Ma would have liked her too, although she probably would have called him dramatic for saying he loved her before they’d even kissed or been on a date.) So Steve loved Peggy. And his mind thanked him for it, when he met her,  _ oh thank god you’re not broken,  _ it said.  _ I cannot believe you thought you possibly loved Bucky like… like that.  _

So Steve focused on Peggy. He focused on her because he enjoyed her company, she was beautiful and charming and strong, and he focused on her because it took away the pain of missing his best friend. And when he was focusing on her, he didn’t think about Bucky… like that. 

(Years and years later, Steve would still look at Peggy’s photo in his compass and wonder if he would have ended up with her, if things had been different. And a part of him didn’t mind the thought of ending up with her, marrying her, starting a life with her, not one bit.) 

_ (Every other part of him screamed at him that it was Bucky. It had always been Bucky.)  _

Steve sighed and rubbed his head, turning his page back to the monkey and shading the outfit. 

“Hello Steve,” said a voice behind him, and he turned to face Peggy, confused, because she wasn’t supposed to be here. 

“Hi,” Steve said quickly. “What’re you doing here?” He asked, hoping he didn’t sound annoyed. 

“Officially I’m not here at all,” Peggy said, taking a seat beside him, her hair dripping from the rain. “That was quite a performance.” 

Steve felt the blush trying to creep up his neck. 

“Yeah, uh,” he stuttered awkwardly, “I had to improvise a little bit. The crowds I’m used to are usually a bit more…” he failed to find a word. 

“I understand you’re America’s new hope,” Peggy pressed on, ignoring his awkwardness. He wasn’t sure she sounded pleased about that. 

“Yeah, well, bomb sales take a ten percent bump in every state I visit.” 

“Is that Senator Brant I hear?” She shot back, and Steve looked away. 

“Least he’s got me doing this,” Steve replied, uncomfortable. “Phillips would have had me stuck in a lab.” 

Peggy pursed her lips. “And these are your only two options?” She said disapprovingly. “A lab rat or a dancing monkey?” Steve looked away again. 

“You were meant for more than this you know,” her voice softened. 

Steve was silent. 

“What?” She asked. 

“You know, for the longest time I dreamed about coming overseas, being on the front lines… serving my country. I finally got everything I wanted… and I’m wearing tights.” 

Peggy was watching him intently. They were interrupted by a beeping horn and the two watched as barely breathing soldiers were pulled out of vans on stretchers. Steve felt sick. 

“They look like they’ve been through hell,” he said horsley. Peggy nodded. 

“These men more than most,” she said. Steve frowned. 

“Shmidt sent out a force to Azzano and 200 men went up against him,” she told him. “Less than 50 returned.” Steve looked down.  _ Less than 50.  _

“Your audience contained what was left of the 107th,” she said. “The rest were killed or captured.” 

It took Steve a second to register what Peggy had said before his neck snapped up, his heart dropping into his gut. 

“The 107th?!” he asked, a little hysterically. Peggy looked concerned. 

“What?” She asked him. Steve said nothing. 

He got up and ran. 

He didn’t care he was getting soaked, not that he particularly noticed; his heart was pounding in his ears and he thought he might explode if he didn’t get an answer soon. 

Suddenly there was no one else. 

It was only Bucky. 

“Colonel Phillips,” Steve skidded to a halt under a tent. 

“Well, if it isn’t the star spangled man with a plan,” Phillips drawled. Steve ignored this jab. His head was hurting. “What’s your plan today?” 

“I need the casualty list from Azzano,” Steve said quickly. 

“You don’t get to give me orders son,” the Colonel fired back. Steve ignored him again. 

“I just need one name, Sergeant James Barnes, the 107th,” the words tumbled out of his mouth and he didn’t even  _ care  _ what anyone thought he just needed to know-

“You and I are gonna have a conversation later than you won’t enjoy,” Phillips interrupted, pointing at Peggy. Steve fought back the urge to scream at him. 

“Please tell me if he’s alive sir,” Steve said desperately “B-A-R-” 

“I can spell,” Phillips said warily, clear that Steve wasn’t giving up anytime soon. 

Steve’s face was blank and desperate. 

Phillips sighed and stood up, rifling through papers. “I have signed more of these condolence letters today then I would care to count,” he said. “But the name does sound familiar. I’m sorry.” 

Steve’s brain exploded. His chest rose and fell rapidly, and he fought back tears with every power he didn’t know he possessed. 

“What about the others?” 

Steve knew what he was going to say before he said it. He knew what the answer was. 

And he knew what he was going to do. 

Back in his tent, he frantically threw things into a bag when Peggy followed him in. 

“What are you going to do, walk to Austria?” She asked. 

Steve stuffed things in his bag furiously, refusing to look at her. “If that’s what it takes.” 

“You heard the Colonel, your friend is most likely dead-” 

Hearing Peggy call Bucky a friend so casually infuriated Steve even more. He fought back tears again and continued violently tossing things around his tent. 

(Though later, he was incredibly thankful for Peggy’s help.)

“You’re not dead,” Steve whispered to himself, his eyes closed, on the plane, as Peggy was up the front, talking to Howard. 

“I’d know if you were,” he murmured. “And I’m coming.” 

(So much for not thinking of Bucky like… that.) 

** _things we said when i found you again_ **

Steve’s heart was hammering in his chest as he raced along the dark, derelict corridor. 

_ Please don’t be dead please please don’t be dead oh god please-  _

He stopped short when he saw a squat figure moving swiftly out of a room at the end of the hall. Light flooded out of it but the figure was nothing more than a mere shadow. Steve moved to chase after him as the figure moved on, but then stopped again at the entrance to the room. 

He moved in cautiously, unsure of what he was about to see. His heart stopped in his chest when he heard incoherent mumbling from the dark corner of the room. 

Mumbling he recognised. 

_ Bucky.  _

Steve’s heart leapt into his throat and he ran towards the table Bucky lay strapped on. He caught sight of his face right as Bucky opened his eyes blarily, his face battered and his body wounded. 

“Bucky,” Steve choked out. “Oh my god…” He yanked the straps off the table and looked down into Bucky’s blank eyes. 

“It’s me,” he whispered, “it’s Steve.” 

He remembered Bucky hadn’t seen him post serum yet. 

“It’s Steve.” 

Bucky’s eyes opened wider and he murmured, “Steve?” 

Then he registered. “Steve!” 

“Come on,” Steve said, helping him up slowly. Bucky groaned and Steve tried not to think about how much pain he was clearly in. 

They locked eyes once Bucky was standing up, and Steve exhaled, unable to help himself putting a hand cupping Bucky’s face. 

“I thought you were dead,” he said horsley. 

“I thought you were… smaller.” 

** _things you said that will haunt me forever_ **

_ “NO, NOT WITHOUT YOU!” _

** _things we said when i lost you (part two)_ **

_ _

As the shots ceased, Bucky shook his head at Steve. 

‘I had him on the ropes,” Bucky rolled his eyes at him. 

“I know you did,” Steve replied. There was a second of peaceful bliss, possibly the last Steve would have for a long, long time. 

Then the whirring noise, and the shot came. 

“ _ Get down!” _ Steve yelled, and pulled the shield violently in front of he and Bucky, shoving themselves into a corner. The blast ricochet through the carriage, and somehow, Steve ended up being tossed away from both Bucky and the shield. He struggled to get up, his mind yelling ( _ GETTOBUCKYGETTOBUCKYGETTOBUCKY)  _ as he saw Bucky pick up the shield and his gun, aiming at the other man. He fired two shots, looking determined, before the HYDRA agent blasted him again, and Steve watched as Bucky flew out of the now half open carriage. 

Steve pushed himself up off the floor violently  _ (GETTOBUCKYGETTOBUCKYGETTOBUCKY)  _ and grabbed the shield, chucking it at the HYDRA agent and knocking him out.  _ (GETTOBUCKYGETTOBUCKYGETTOBUCKY)  _ he yanked off his helmet and grabbed the side of the train, trying to lower himself out without falling. He stared down at the hundreds of miles to the ground beneath them, feeling the bile rise in his throat. 

“ _ Bucky _ !” he screamed, his throat tearing as he moved along the side of the train, shaking violently and gripping for dear life. “ _ Hang on! Grab my hand!” _

Before Bucky could scream back, the bar he was gripping onto so tightly his knuckles were white jolted, and Steve choked as Bucky now hung on with very little stability. 

_ _

It happened as he screamed. 

“NO!” 

Bucky was falling. Steve’s vision went blurry. 

_ _

Then Bucky was gone. 

** _things we said when we found each other again _ **

For a moment in the fight, time stopped. The earth stopped turning. Steve stopped breathing. 

“Bucky?” He asked weakly. It was all he could muster. 

“Who the hell is Bucky?” 

** _things i said when i didn’t know what else to say _ **

Steve walked out of the bathroom, towelling his hair dry. Natasha sat on the end of the bed in Sam’s spare room, her chin resting in her palms, staring at the wall. 

“You alright?” Steve asked her, sitting down next to her. 

“Fine,” she said. “Fine.” 

She turned to Steve and scrutinised him, looking almost pained. Steve sighed. 

“What is it?” He asked. “You’ve been looking at me like that for days.” 

She exhaled breath he didn’t know she was holding and look at him dead on, her face no more or less serious than it had been the last few days, but a slightly different look in her eyes. 

“So, the winter soldier,” she said, and Steve’s heart was immediately in his mouth. (He’d just spent fifteen minutes crying in the shower, and he did  _ not  _ need fifteen more, thank you very much.) 

“Bucky,” Steve said softly. She nodded. 

“Bucky,” she replied. “That was the guy from all the photos and videos at the smithsonian exhibit about you? That was him? On the bridge?” 

Steve shut his eyes, his forehead pounding painfully. “Bucky wasn’t a murderer.” 

“Sorry,” she said quickly, but not unkindly. “But that was… that used to be him, right? Like that was, er,-” 

“Yeah, fine. That was him,” Steve said. His voice was tired. 

“I’m sorry,” she said again, softer this time. “He meant a lot to you, I know. This must be hard.”

Steve said nothing. 

“Your best friend, right?” She said, her eyes curious, but not cruel. Just someone who trusted Steve with her life but learnt everything she knew about him from a museum. 

“My best friend,” he repeated, but the words felt wrong on his tongue. She nodded, and they were both quiet for a second. 

“I loved him,” Steve blurted out, and he didn’t know what the  _ hell  _ would make him say that to Natasha, he’d never even said it  _ out loud  _ before, let alone to anyone else- 

“And judging by your face right now, you’ve never said that to anyone before.” Her tone was light, but her eyes were wide. Steve let out a shaking breath. 

“No, I haven’t,” he whispered. 

Nat leaned over and hugged him. 

“I’m so sorry,” she said quietly, and she squeezed him tightly. 

Steve didn’t ask what she was sorry for. 

(He knew. And he wished with all his might that she didn’t need to be sorry.) 

** _things we repeated _ **

Steve’s chest was rising and falling with every heaving breath he took. His whole body ached from the fight, but he was not giving up now. 

“Your name,” he panted, “is James Buchanan Barnes-” 

_ “Shut up!”  _ Bucky screamed, throwing Steve to the ground. In a moment of pure improvisation, Steve yanked his helmet off in hope it would strike something in Bucky. They locked eyes. Steve’s vision was blurred with tears. 

“I’m not gonna fight you,” Steve choked out. He let his shield drop. 

_ Please. Please. Bucky. Please.  _

“You’re my friend.” 

Bucky paused for only a second, then roared and threw himself at Steve. 

“And you’re my mission.” 

He hit Steve, over and over again, screaming. 

“YOU’RE. MY. MISSION.”

Every word sounded steadily like he was breaking, so Steve didn’t give in. He lay there and let Bucky do what he would to him. 

(The only thing he did was pray.) 

Then Bucky stopped, for a fraction of a second. Just one. Steve, tears rolling off his cheeks and stinging his cuts, spoke. 

“Then finish it,” he managed. “Because I’m with you… till the end of the line.” 

Bucky’s arm was still raised; but he didn’t strike again. 

His eyes met Steve’s, widening. 

_ And they recognised him.  _

** _things you said that i cried about later _ **

_ _

“Your mom’s name was Sarah,” Bucky said horsley. Steve sucked in a breath. 

Then Bucky smiled, just a tiny smile, but a smile nonetheless. 

“You used to wear newspapers in your shoes.” 

Steve shut his eyes and exhaled. 

“Can’t read that in a museum.” 

** _things i said that you cried about later_ **

“I don’t know if I’m worth all this Steve,” Bucky said from behind him. Steve shut his eyes. Bucky sounded so  _ wounded,  _ so  _ broken _ . Bucky’s voice had never been like that before. 

“What you did all those years,” Steve said gently, opening his eyes but not looking at Bucky (because if he did, he was sure he’d break), “that wasn’t you. You didn’t have a choice.” 

“I know,” Bucky replied. “But I did it.” 

** _things we said when you made a choice_ **

“You sure about this?” Steve asked Bucky, biting the inside of his cheek nervously. 

Bucky gave him an oddly broken, half smile. 

“I can’t trust my own mind,” he replied. 

Steve watched the steam close around Bucky, and at the last moment he turned away. 

(He couldn’t tell him. It wasn’t fair on Bucky. Bucky wouldn’t know how to react.) 

** _things we said when i visited you_ **

They lay on the grass, side by side, string up at the sky. Steve had the strong urge to intertwine his fingers with Bucky, but he resisted. 

“It’s beautiful here,” he said to Bucky. Bucky made a hum in agreement. 

“Do you really think it’s helping?” Steve asked, watching the people of Wakanda from a distance, going about their day to day lives. 

“Maybe,” Bucky said. “Maybe, yeah.” 

“Maybe’s better than no.” 

“Yeah, it is.” 

They were silent again. 

“I missed you,” Steve said softly. “It didn’t seem fair that I found you again only to have you taken away.” 

“I know,” Bucky replied. “Me too. But I didn’t want to… to cause you anymore trouble.” 

Steve sat up suddenly, staring at Bucky. 

“Is that why you went back under? Came here? It’s not, right?” Steve asked, a little hysterically. 

Bucky sat up too. “No! No. Well. Maybe a little-” 

“Jesus,” Steve groaned. “Jesus, Buck, you didn’t cause me…” 

“Don’t finish that sentence,” Bucky said tonelessly. “You know it’s a lie.” 

Bucky was right. He  _ had  _ caused Steve immense trouble, with Tony and Ross and everything that had happened. 

“But I don’t…” Steve said weakly. “You know I’d do anything for you, right?” 

Bucky nodded. “I know you would,” he said, his throat dry. “But that doesn’t mean you should.” 

“But I…” 

_ I love you.  _

_ I love you, that’s why I’d do anything for you.  _

“What is it?” 

“Nothing,” Steve said. “I just missed you.” 

“I know,” Bucky replied. “I missed you too.”

** _things we said when we hugged_ **

_ When we get out of this, I’m gonna tell him. When this is all over, I’m gonna tell him.  _

Steve spent the entire ride to Wakanda in silence, making this promise to himself over and over. It became his mantra that day, the day of the last fight for five years. When the plane landed, Natasha nudged him. 

“You good?” 

“Fine,” Steve said shakily. “Yeah, fine.” 

She rolled her eyes. “Clearly.” 

He stared straight ahead, vaguely hearing Bruce and Rhodey bantering in the background, but not really observing them. The door opened and they were greeted by T’Challa. 

“How’re we looking?” Natasha asked T’Challa as the group headed towards the main building. 

“You will have my KingsGuard,” T’Challa replied, “the border tribe, and-” he gestured towards Bucky, who walked towards them, grinning. “A semi-stable hundred year old man,” he finished for T’Challa. 

(Bucky was  _ smiling.  _ Steve thought his heart genuinely ached.) 

Steve smiled too. 

They hugged each other close, though Steve was aware there were a lot of people around them. 

“How’ve you been Buck?” He asked seriously as they pulled away, but seeing Bucky in fit condition, he couldn’t not be smiling. 

(It had been a while. Steve wasn’t sure he could manage to see him that often. It hurt. It hurt, selfishly.)

“Uh, not bad,” Bucky locked eyes with Steve. “For the end of the world.” 

Steve squeezed his shoulder tightly, and as the group set off, Natasha nudged Steve in the ribs and raised her eyebrows. He gave her a death glare in return. 

** _things we said when i lost you (part three) _ **

“Where’d he go?” Steve’s voice echoed through the now silent forest. His chest was heaving and his head was pounding. “Where’d he go?” 

“Steve…?” 

Steve whipped around to where Bucky’s voice had called out to him weakly. 

Bucky was moving forwards slowly, but something was off. Steve had no reply. (Years later, he’d wish he’d said something.) 

Then he realised what was happening. He leapt forward, but before his very eyes, Bucky turned to dust.    
“No,” Steve whispered in horror, falling onto his knees to where Bucky had stood seconds before. “No, God, please no…” 

All around him, people were doing the same. He could hear Rhodey calling out Sam’s name, he heard Natasha bend down nearby once Wanda’s voice had stopped calling out, he heard T’Challa stop mid sentence and Thor cry out- 

But he could only out his hand gently onto the ground, his fingers tentatively sieving through the ashes of what once was his best friend’s body, and was now nothing more than dust. 

He collapsed backwards onto the ground from where he crouched. 

Steve had lost Bucky. Bucky was gone. Again. 

Again.  _ Againagainagainagainagain- _

“Oh, God,” was all Steve could choke out, and the last thing he remembered from that day was Natasha lowering herself onto the ground slowly beside him, as he locked eyes with her, and saw them glistening with tears. 

** _things i said when you were dust _ **

Steve spent two months after Thanos and Wakanda feeling very little. He remembered three times when he felt something in those weeks. The first was the day he saw Bucky turn to dust, the others disintegrated around him. The second was the day after that, which he spent in his room in the compound, crying. The third was the day Tony’s ship landed outside the compound. 

And that was it. 

No more tears, no more emotions, he just sat in the compound day after day, spending hours in the shower or lying on the grass outside. He didn’t want to leave. He didn’t want to see anything outside there. What the city was like. No one else. 

He watched everyone react in different ways. 

He saw Thor as he was even more isolated than Steve. He left after a month, though last he heard he was not doing so well back in Asgard. He watched Natasha and Rhodey throw themselves into work, never giving themselves a second to rest in fear of what might happen to them if they stopped. He watched Bruce wander around mindlessly, only wanting to help but with no one who wanted to take it. He left too. Steve didn’t hear from him for awhile either. He watched Tony arrive back on that ship with such an awful, hollowed look in his eyes that Steve couldn’t bare to think what he had been through on Titan. They argued, and Steve didn’t blame him for one thing he said. Later, he heard Tony talking to Pepper about his kid- Peter. Then they packed up and left, and no one heard from them at all. No one had heard from Clint. 

Steve missed Wanda’s presence, but a tiny, awful part of him was glad she had gone too- after everything she had witnessed with Vision, he was terrified about how she would have been acting if she was here. Steve missed Sam, he missed him so much, and he wondered that if Sam was here, maybe everything would be just a tiny, tiny bit less painful. They could run together, they could help each other, and maybe Steve would have someone to live with instead of coming home every day to an empty apartment months later, when he finally moved back into the city. 

And he missed Bucky. God, he missed Bucky. 

He’d never forgotten the pain of watching Bucky die before his eyes, and he didn’t think he ever would, not in a million years. But it was so long ago, that day on the train, so, so long ago- and Steve wondered, for years on end, what cruel twist of fate had argued that he deserved to lose him again? 

He wanted to know where they were. All of them. If they were okay. If they could breathe, think, hear, see. Or if it was just black. 

Some days, Steve wondered if he’d died too. Because everything looked black to him. 

The first day he went back into the city, two months later, he fought the urge to throw up every corner he turned. He’d known New York city since 1918; and never, not once in his time of New York being his home, had it ever been this quiet. It was like something had come and sucked the character out of it, the  _ life  _ out of it- 

Oh. 

He saw very few people, but every single one of them looked  _ wrecked.  _ He imagined that’s what he probably looked like too. Everyone had lost somebody. Some were luckier than others, but no one had escaped pain. He got a few looks of confusion. After all, technically no one had seen him for two years. Though there was little trouble as he registered for an apartment of his own. (Was he a war criminal? Was he not a war criminal? He had no idea if anyone knew.) 

It was the first day Natasha was helping him move his stuff in, and the two of them decided to have a break and go for a walk. They were walking down a side street when Steve saw a group of about ten people gathered outside one of the community centres. He jerked his head towards them, frowning, and Nat followed, her eyebrows creased. 

Turns out, they were a support group. 

“Well, not officially,” one man told Steve. “We don’t have a leader or anything. We meet here every week, but we haven’t really figured out how to work the group yet.” 

“Is it helping?” Natasha asked softly. A couple of people nodded. 

“We just really need a leader,” one soft spoken woman said. She looked at Natasha, rather starstruck. “But everyone is mourning. No one had the strength to stand up and help.” 

And a week later, that’s how Steve found himself setting up chairs in a circle in the community centre, waiting for his first group of the day to arrive. Because if no one had the strength to stand up and help, wasn’t that his job? He was still Captain America. He was still Steve Rogers. It didn’t matter that he didn’t have a shield, or a best friend, or a lover, or that he was a man out of his time or that his makeshift family had been torn apart once again. His job, his  _ life, _ had been dedicated to helping people, and a star spangled suit had never defined that. 

Besides. If he didn’t do it, who would? 

So he threw himself into it. For the first two years, the groups thrived. He spent his evenings working on dividing the groups up into smaller ones for more one on one time; he wrote out schedules and gathered everyone’s emails so they could all have a day that worked for them; he had the community center five days a week, a few different groups every day; he made posters; he advertised; he went through Sam’s old things to find resources he’d used at his support groups. He  _ helped.  _

He helped so many people. 

Four years later, Steve Rogers had a new life completely. 

(Yet not a day went by he didn’t think about Bucky.)

The groups grew smaller over the years; some people moved on. Some people didn’t. Some people didn’t need help anymore; but many still did. 

One evening, Steve was packing up the chairs in the room where the group was held when one of his regular attendees, Marcy, a nineteen year old girl wandered in. 

“Hey Marce,” he said, pausing from the chairs and leaning against the wall. “You okay?” 

“Hi Steve,” she said. “I don’t know.” She stood, twisting a strand of her blonde hair around her finger, a tell she was anxious. She smiled nervously. “Can I sit?” 

“Of course,” he said, and they sat down on two remaining chairs. “What’s up?” 

She sighed. “Have you ever been in love?” 

Steve blanched a little at the question. Then he couldn’t help but laugh, which turned quickly into a sad smile. 

“I have, yeah,” he said earnestly. 

“Did you lose her?” 

Steve thought hard for a moment. He opened his mouth, then he shut it again. 

“I lost a her. But I also lost a him.” 

“Oh,” Marcy replied. “That’s awful.” 

“It is,” Steve said hesitantly, “but it was a long time ago.” 

“Right,” she said. 

“Why’s that?” He asked, trying to blink away the images of Bucky that had decided kindly to flood through his aching head. 

“You remember Mark?” She said softly. Steve nodded. Marcy had started coming toe group right after the snap at fifteen years old; her first session she told Steve about her boyfriend, Mark, who she’d been with when he turned to dust. Watching loved ones disappear was a traumatising experience for thousands; but Steve remembers the way Marcy talked about watching Mark turn to ash better than most. They had been best friends since they were kids, and had finally confessed love to each other only a month or so before the snap. In some weird way it almost reminded Steve of he and Bucky. (Not that they had ever confessed anything. Jesus.) 

“Everyone told me I shouldn’t have used the word love at fifteen,” she said. “But I really think I did love him.” Steve nodded again. He’d heard this before. 

“But I… I just. Today I went on a date.” 

Steve raised his eyebrows. “Wow, Marcy-” 

“But I just… I felt awful,” she said, before he could congratulate her, “I felt so horrible because I really,  _ really  _ like this guy Steve, but it doesn’t seem fair that I can move on.” 

“Ah,” Steve replied. He sighed, thinking about his answer. 

“I know what that feels like, in a way,” he said, and he watched Marcy’s eyes watched him desperately, waiting for advice. He wanted to talk about Bucky and Peggy, but this wasn’t about him. 

“I could never deny to you that there isn’t some twisted, strange chance somewhere out there, some higher power, that could reverse what happened,” he said softly. “But I’m telling you, from the perspective of one of the people who  _ tried  _ to stop what happened from happening; it’s a very, very small chance.” She exhaled. 

“I know,” she said. “But… even if he doesn’t come back. Why would it be fair that I moved on?” 

“Because,” Steve said, knowing the answer like the back of his hand. “If Mark truly loved you, he would have wanted you to be happy.” 

Back in his apartment, Steve lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling. 

He breathed in, then breathed back out. Ah. Yes. There they were. The emotions, loud and clear, whenever he stopped for a few minutes and breathed, whenever he tore himself away from his work or any distraction. The pain had not once stopped; it had not once diminished or become any less; Steve had simply learnt how to pause it. 

And he very rarely pressed play. 

He let out a shaky breath, and he got up, swallowing in his dry throat as he pulled open the drawer that had the few items of regular clothing Bucky had owned in Wakanda. Steve pulled out one of the sweaters Bucky had bought while he was on the run all those years ago; back when Steve was still in shock knowing Bucky was out there, alive, somewhere. He tugged the sweater over his head with trembling hands, and without much warning, he felt the tears press at the back of his eyes. 

Steve felt sick. He sank to the floor, the tears sliding down his face. 

(Pressing play was one of the most awful feelings in the world. But if he didn’t press play sometimes, he couldn’t call himself human.) 

** _things we said when you were back_ **

The silence after a battle walked an extremely fine line between the most harrowing sound one could experience, and simultaneously, the most peaceful. 

Steve had wanted nothing more than to run to Bucky at full force when he saw him on the battlefield, when he saw him walk out of Strange’s portal, when his heart blew up like a balloon in his chest, but he knew he had a job to do, and by the look on Bucky’s face, he knew that too. 

When Tony had wielded the snap, Steve really hadn’t even considered what the repercussions of that were going to be. But when everyone stood in front of Tony’s lifeless body; when everyone watched him take his last breaths, Steve’s mind could only focus on that. The tears were pouring down his face silently; tears for Natasha, tears for Tony, tears for Peter, Pepper and Rhodey as they crouched by him. Tears for a friendship, an alliance, he had only just mended, and one that he’d never get to continue to mend. Some of the others had begun to leave; Steve watched Sam move Pepper and Peter gently out of the way and let Rhodey and Clint lift Tony’s body. Rhodey’s arms were shaking so violently Steve didn’t know whether he should offer to help him, but Thor moved forward before he could. He watched Wanda take Peter’s arm, the kid’s body wracked with sobs, and lead him gently the other way. She was crying too; though Steve couldn’t be sure who for. He watched Pepper stare at the spot where Tony had lain for minutes- he wanted to go to her, he wanted to say something, but he didn’t know what. He didn’t feel like a hero in that moment. Eventually she stood up- Steve wondered how she could look so collected when she was sobbing and gasping- Strange lead her away from the ruins and began to create a portal for her with shaking hands. 

When Steve could bear it no longer, he finally turned to see Bucky standing behind him; his eyes on Steve. Steve pulled off his helmet, letting it drop onto the ground carelessly and he took a step towards Bucky. Bucky hadn’t moved, but his eyes were locked on Steve’s. Steve took another step, then another, then he ran, he threw himself at Bucky so violently he was shocked Bucky didn’t topple over, but they stood their ground, wrapped in each other’s arms and sinking to the ground, Steve sobbing, he couldn’t tell if Bucky was crying either, but he thought so, his head pressed into Steve’s hair and his breathing ragged. 

“It’s been five years,” Steve choked out. “Five years-” 

“I know, I know,” Bucky said horsley, “I know Steve, I know, I’m so sorry-” 

(They stayed like that for what felt like hours. Steve had every urge to look up at Bucky and kiss him, right then and there, but it wasn’t the time.) 

(Steve wondered if there would ever be a time.) 

(Steve decided he didn’t think there was.) 

** _things we said when you thought you lost me_ **

(Steve decided there wasn’t.) 

_ (Later, when he asked, Bucky would tell him that he’d decided there wasn’t either.)  _

“Don’t do anything stupid until I get back,” Steve said to Bucky, half smiling, half aching. 

Bucky, his hands in his pockets, scuffed his shoe on the ground and snorted. 

“How can I?” He asked. “You’re taking all the stupid with you.” 

Steve hugged him, then watched his face carefully. 

_ (Give me sign. Give me a sign. Give me anything, something that will tell me to stay-) _

“I’m gonna miss you buddy,” Bucky said quietly. Steve smiled sadly. 

“It’s gonna be okay, Buck,” he replied, holding back the tears that burned his eyes as he turned away. 

In the last second as disappeared, Steve thought he saw Bucky turn away and do the same thing. 

** _things you said i didn’t know about_ **

Peggy listened valiantly to Steve explaining for a very long time. Once he’d finally finished speaking, she considered him for a moment before she took his hands in hers where they sat on a couch in her living room. 

“Steve,” she said in her voice that Steve loved so much, “as flattered as I am that you came back to this moment for me... “ she paused, and Steve shut his eyes. 

“You have a husband, I know,” he said, opening them again. “And if you love him, God, Peg, that’s… that’s fine. That’s  _ more  _ than fine. But I can… I can change the timeline if…” the longer he spoke, the more insane he realised he sounded. 

She smiled at him, her eyes glistening. “I do love him,” she said gently. “As much as I love you, Steve.” He exhaled. 

“But I think you should go home,” she said. He looked up at her. 

“Why?” He whispered, strangled. “I could… I could stay, we don’t need to be  _ married,  _ I just want to-” 

“No you don’t,” she cut him off. He gaped at her. 

“Of course I do!” He said, sounding offended. “Of  _ course  _ I do, what makes you think-” 

“Because you’re clearly in love with Bucky.” She smiled at him. “Really, Steve, we did fight a war together for two years, you forget. You forget I watched you everyday, and you forget I watched your gaze flit from Bucky to me. And you forget-” Steve was still staring at her, open mouthed- “how perceptive I can be. But any fool could listen to the life you just retold to me and hear that you still love him.” 

Steve’s mouth opened and closed like a fish for a good minute, and Peggy laughed at him. 

“Go back and tell him,” she said, and Steve spluttered. 

“Clearly  _ you  _ forget things too,” he retorted, “because Bucky was one of the biggest players we knew, and I never once saw him so much as glance at a guy, let alone  _ me. _ And Jesus, Peg, you think I could just say that? And there would be no repercussions-” 

“-Steve-” 

“Because we were raised in the 1930s, you remember what it was like then?-” 

“-Steve-” 

“-And Bucky doesn't love me like that, I have never been so sure of anything in my life-” 

“Steve!” Peggy said loudly. “Have you gotten  _ more  _ daft since I knew you? Let me talk, you idiot.” 

Steve shut his mouth, but his whole body was trembling. Peggy squeezed his hands tighter. 

“Do you remember the night Phillips made you go to that dinner with those awful commanding officers for hours?’ She asked, and Steve nodded. 

“How could I forget?” 

“And do you remember leaving Bucky and I sitting together at the bar in that town we were nearby at the time?” 

“Yes,” he said. Then a terrible thought occurred to him. “He didn’t kiss you, did he?” 

“Good Lord, no!” Peggy laughed, and Steve smiled slightly. “Imagine! No, but he did get incredibly drunk.” 

“I do remember you telling me that when I came back.” 

“Yes, incredibly drunk- drunk enough to tell me he trusted me, and drunk enough to tell me his deepest secret with no prompting- but not drunk enough to tell anyone else or to be making no sense. In fact, he made perfect sense.” She stared at Steve seriously. “And when I confronted him about it the next day, he told me he was telling the truth, but he’d be very, very, upset if I ever mentioned it to you.” She was watching his face. 

“Do you know what we talked about that night Steve?” 

Steve sucked in a breath. “What?” His voice came out in a whisper. 

_ Bucky put down his glass on the counter and turned to Peggy, his eyes wide.  _

_ “You know,” he slurred, “Steve really trusts you.”  _

_ “Oh yes?” Peggy asked, amused. “That’s nice to know.”  _

_ “An’ if Steve trust you, I have trust you too,” he said.  _

_ “Is that so?” She replied. “Why?”  _

_ “Because Steve has th’ best judg’men’,” Bucky’s words were sloppy, but he clearly knew what he was talking about.  _

_ “You think?” She asked, unable to stop the smile spreading across her face.  _

_ “Mmhm,” he replied. Then he looked around, and leant in.  _

_ “I trust you,” he said. She could smell the alcohol on his breath. “So d’you wanna know a secret?”  _

_ “I don’t know,” Peggy said, unsure of what to expect. “Do I, Sargent?”  _

_ “Well, m’ gonna tell you.”  _

_ “Alright.”  _

_ Bucky took his refilled glass from the counter, downed half of it, then slammed it back down. The bar was loud enough for no one to overhear their conversation.  _

_ “I wan’ you to take care of Steve,” he mumbled. She raised her eyebrows, but he wasn’t done. “You make him happy,” he continued. “So you have to take care of him, make him happy.”  _

_ “I’d love to,” she said softly, still unsure. “But why can’t you do those things too?”  _

_ “Because,” Bucky slurred. “I wan’ to do that. But I can’ do that. I love him, and he won’ love me back and it’s not allowed.”  _

“No,” Steve said, his voice cracking. “He didn’t say that. You didn’t- you’re lying.” 

“Steve,” Peggy said seriously, shaking her head. “Why on earth would I lie to you about something like that?” 

Steve stared at her, his mouth open. “Oh my god,” he whispered. “Oh my god.” 

“Go home Steve,” she said, smiling at him, her eyes glistening. She pulled him up off the couch, and kissed him on the cheek. “Go home, and  _ talk  _ to him, for goodness sake.” 

“Okay,” he said. He thought his brain might explode soon. “Now?” 

“No,” she said. “Not yet. You still owe me a dance, remember?"

** _things we said when we found peace_ **

Steve will always remember Bucky’s look of shock when he reappeared on the platform that day. Steve will always remember how much his hands and knees shook as he climbed down, how much his body was trembling and how his brain was a pile of mush as Sam helped him out of the time suit. He will remember thanking Sam with not much conviction, and he will never, ever forget watching Bucky step forward and look Steve up and down in shock. 

“Steve,” Bucky gasped, “What- I thought you would-” 

Steve hugged Bucky tightly, then he stepped back, but only a tiny bit. Their faces were inches apart. 

Steve shushed him. 

“I love you, Bucky,” he said. He will never forget the way he heard his voice shake, or the feeling of the tears pressing at the back of his eyes but for the first time in years, not being tears of pain. He will never forget hearing Bucky choke on his next breath, his eyes widening and watching them make their way to Steve’s locking and grabbing his hands. 

“You’re not-” 

“I’m not.” Steve said, still trembling. “I love you, Bucky, and you have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to say that-” 

Steve will never forget the way Bucky cut him off, pressing his lips to his and  _ kissing him,  _ and the way he gasped when they pulled apart, and the way Bucky said “I do, I  _ do  _ know how long you’ve been waiting, I have  _ too- _ ” and he will never forget how they kissed again, and again, and again, and tears streaming down their faces between laughter and sobs. 

Bucky wouldn’t either. Neither of them would ever forget anything about that day, neither of them would ever forget the moments that defined their lives, the painful, the heartbreaking, the firsts, lasts and the beautiful ones. 

Those moments could always be defined by the things they had said; because as Bucky and Steve had realised over their many, many years, even as heroes, their greatest weapon would never be a shield or a gun. It would be words. It would be countless sentences they uttered through out their lives, all of which had meant “I love you,” or “I love him,” even if it had taken them a long, long time to get the words right. 

**Author's Note:**

> you made it to the end! thank you so, so much for reading. it means so much to me.  
im on twitter as @elenaclqire, come say hi! <3


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